


How About One More?

by OhLenaLena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Friendships, Drabble, Draco Malfoy Feels, Dramione One Shot, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Flying, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Good Draco Malfoy, Hate to Love, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hermione Granger-centric, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love, Minor Reference to Drug Use, One Shot, Protective Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Romance, Romantic Draco Malfoy, Romantic Fluff, Teen Romance, True Love, dramione - Freeform, dramione drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLenaLena/pseuds/OhLenaLena
Summary: Just a simple little love story from sixth year.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	How About One More?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Quidditch  
> from DFFR 2.0 Drabble Days weekly theme
> 
> Okay, so Quidditch isn't really my jam, but broomstick flying? Yes please. I think I used the word Quidditch once..that counts, right?

She was late walking into Alchemy. Not _late_ late. _Hermione_ late. It was the first Alchemy class of the year – of her life – and she wasn't there twenty minutes early. She wouldn't have sufficient time to choose the best seat. She wouldn't even have a chance to take her books out and arrange them properly on her desk. She rushed inside, cursing the sweater that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her that was currently cooking her alive. She didn't even look around the classroom. The embarrassment of arriving late was enough to shame her into fanatically ogling her feet as they stepped hastily toward the back of the room.

She sat down, still keeping her head low, and began to rifle through her bookbag with an absent hand. She tried to slow her breathing so that it didn't sound like she had just run a marathon.

Somebody cleared their throat to her left. She had no time to look up. Then, "You're looking flustered, Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared down at her desk. Slowly, she tilted her head sideways to see her desk mate.

"Looks like you could use a drink," his mouth twisted into a smirk. "Or maybe something stronger."

Hermione huffed in frustration and began to rise from her seat just as Professor Frollo walked in. She groaned and sat back down as he began his lecture. With a start, she sensed Malfoy's hand reach over under the desk. She gritted her teeth and looked over at him. His idiotic smirk never left his lips. He lifted his eyebrows, daring her to participate. She reached under the table and found his hand. His fist softened and dropped a soft something into her palm. The touch of his fingers grazing against her wrist as he slid his hand back up haunted her all afternoon.

…

"Well?" he said to her the following day.

"Well, what?" she snapped as she sat down beside him.

"Did you try it?" He leaned into his desk as she began to unload her bag.

"Try what?" Hermione gave him the sort of look you give to three-year-old who's throwing a tantrum because you won't let him eat any mud.

"The moonflower," Malfoy whispered.

"Datura stramonium," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "is what it's called."

Malfoy's mouth twitched as he tried not to grin too widely. "You've never done it before, have you?"

Hermione shrugged. "Hallucinogens aren't really my thing."

"You've never tried it." Malfoy sloped back into his seat with a satisfied air.

…

"Another tedious class, here I come," Malfoy carped as he dropped his bookbag onto his desk.

Hermione eyed him skeptically. "I've been enjoying the lessons."

Malfoy leaned his broomstick against his seat and slid in next to her. "You know," he said playfully, "we could be … elsewhere."

Hermione shot him a disapproving look. "I don't want to be _elsewhere_."

Malfoy shrugged, "Your loss."

…

Hermione folded her arms and looked away when Malfoy shot her a grin as soon as he entered the room. "This seat taken?" he joked, crashing into the chair beside her. His hair was wild, as if he'd just come out of a wind tunnel. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were dancing. His idiotic mood was contagious. Hermione lifted her eyebrows and bit down on her lip, but he could still see the ghost of a smile grace her lips.

"You look like you've just had a roll in the hay," she said.

"Not quite," he said. "Although are you offering?"

She gave him her famous Hermione glare and turned her attention to the front of the room.

He leaned in close to her ear as Professor Frollo entered the room. "Let's get out of here."

She turned to face him. "Are you out of your mind?"

His face was too close to hers and he smiled. And she lost the power of wills.

Quickly, she shut her textbook and notebook and shoved them both back into her bookbag. Malfoy widened his eyes but didn't say another word as he picked up his bag and broomstick. Together, they walked quietly toward the door, with all the eyes of the universe staring at the back of their heads. Hermione didn't dare look up to see Professor Frollo's reaction as they exited the classroom.

…

Malfoy dragged her outside against her adamant protests. "Just try it!" he said.

"No, Malfoy!" she shrieked, shocked by the enthusiastic tone of her voice.

"Trust me," he said as he held the door open for her. "You're going to love it."

She stepped outside into the brilliant sunshine and squinted her eyes. She brought her hand up to her face but then Malfoy stepped ahead and blocked the sunlight. He turned to face her. "I'm going to teach you." He sounded elated and she couldn't help but smile.

He bounded down the steps toward the quad and she walked after him, not allowing her attitude to betray her eagerness to partake in this charade. He stopped and waited for her to saunter toward him, and then he dropped his broomstick onto the grass.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't," she said, panic and exhilaration crashing over her in hot waves.

Malfoy held out his hands. "I won't let you fall," he said, the intensity of his gaze crippling her ability to respond.

She placed her hands in his, an electrifying thrill surging through her body and weakening her knees.

He raised the broomstick and gestured for her to mount it. When she shook her head again, he squeezed her hands. "Want some moonflower to loosen your spirit?" he chuckled when he felt her shake as she lifted her leg over the broom. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."

At those words, Hermione shoved Malfoy aside and, as he stumbled back, she – along with her flying broomstick – shot sideways, and nearly crashed into the ground before grabbing the handle and pulling herself up.

"Granger!" Malfoy shouted in alarm as she shot straight up into the air, screaming.

He ran over to the side of the courtyard where a pile of broomsticks lay ready for the first years' afternoon flying lesson. Grabbing a stick, he hopped on mid-run and tore through the air after Hermione.

"Granger!" he shouted again, his bellow dying quickly in the rushing wind.

Hermione was doing spirals in the air – likely not deliberately, Malfoy guessed – higher and higher up. She couldn't seem to get enough control of the broom to point it downward. Malfoy gathered speed as he flew toward her.

"Hermione!" he called when he finally neared her.

"Malfoy!" she shrieked looking over her shoulder. "Malfoy, please help me!"

At least she wasn't letting go, Malfoy thought with a guilty inward chuckle.

"Lean to your left, Hermione!" he shouted. "Shift your weight!"

The sudden jolt of her body as she tilted the hilt sideways made Hermione's broomstick swerve and she nearly collided with Malfoy. The latter had to pull up on his handle to skim over Hermione's head.

"Use your torso to control your speed!" Malfoy yelled. "Lean back without pulling on the stick!"

"What does that mean?" she screamed, heaving her body backward. The broomstick underneath her began jerking as it decelerated in spurts.

"Drive your hips forward!"

Hermione followed his direction, tottering precariously on her broomstick as she straightened her back without pulling on the hilt. The motion slowed her flight considerably and she descended slowly toward the ground with Malfoy just ahead, guiding her down.

…

"Oh, I can't feel my palms," Hermione said with a shaky voice.

Malfoy chuckled, wrapping her hands in his to stop her trembling.

"I'm serious, my entire body feels like jelly."

"In a good way, right?" Malfoy smirked.

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "Let's just say that Quidditch isn't for me."

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know, Granger. That was some pretty impressive height you got."

Hermione let out an unsteady sigh and smiled sheepishly. "It was rather wild, wasn't it?"

Malfoy laughed and dug his hand into his pocket. Unravelling his fingers, he revealed the white petals of a moonflower. "One for the road?" he said.

"I think I've had enough firsts for one day."

He looked up at her and his smile wavered. "How about one more?" He let the flower fall from his hand and brought his palm up to her face. He felt her shiver one moment and move closer the next. He witnessed her eyes soften; observed her lips part. His other hand dropped the broomstick he was holding, and, in an instant, he was aware of his finger trailing along her arm, slipping up her neck, disappearing amidst her hair. Yes, he had a mission to carry out. Yes, the Dark Lord was his master. And yes, he was nonetheless thoroughly, unequivocally in love with Hermione Granger.

She breathed over his face like she needed to have all of him all at once. Like she could barely hold herself together. Like she didn't recall any of his past transgressions.

And he held her like she was an entity above anything he'd ever known. Like he worshipped her entire essence. Like he didn't exist without her.

He began to close the gap, slowly gulping down the space between them. He brought his face down to her elevation, slid his hand down her jawline, his knuckles down her neck, the tips of his fingers down. Down. His lips parted; his breath hot against her mouth. His body moved in a rhythm that she'd never known but somehow recognized. His fingers raked through the hair around her ear, pulled her face closer, until their lips connected like the long-lost pieces of a forgotten puzzle.


End file.
